


Clear Out

by Womble1



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:22:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28860996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Womble1/pseuds/Womble1
Summary: Why is there so much stuff left in Thunderbird 2? its getting to Virgil
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Clear Out

Virgil was having a clear out, his brothers were right, although don’t let them hear that, the Thunderbus did seem to accumulate “STUFF”. Just because there was space in a cubbyhole or pocket didn't mean his brothers had the right to cram any unhomed item into it. They seemed to be working on the “out of sight, out of mind” theory. Bet they don't do this in their own birds...mutter mutter mutter. Oh he was on a roll now, bin bag in hand, checking down the sides of seats, the backs of storage compartments and behind consoles. Who had been lining up the little stickers off apples along the side of the passenger armrest? Why a Happy Meal toy? Which of them was eating Happy Meals? And why were they doing it in his ‘bird! What was that even a charging cable for? Coffee loyalty cards from a different hemisphere? And keys, they must be important?

He ended up with a box full of what could only be called Random Crap. Which he unceremoniously dumped on the coffee table in the lounge. Scrawling a note on the side that let people know they needed to claim it or lose it. So it was, with a face like thunder, that Virgil left the room in search of a shower and a change of clothes. His jeans had gained questionable stains from whatever it had been that had oozed out of the storage compartments where gordon usually stashed snacks. 

As is usually the case, fresh clothes made for a fresh outlook on life, and it was a much cheerier Virgil who made his way back down to the living area. What met him was a fairly intriguing sight. Brains seemed to have taken the assortment of cables, adapters and electrical components as a personal challenge and was trying to work out what each and every part was meant to be for. Gordon was taking great delight in sneaking additional items into Brain’s pile any time he looked away resulting in a post apocalyptic version of Buckaroo. The resulting pile now also included a few pieces of lego, a collapsible travel mug and a badge from Twycross zoo which wouldn't normally have been in Brain’s field of interest. John was deep in discussion with Brains trying to aid in the cable identification, the pair of them with mirrored frowns etched on their brows.

Scott was sat to one side looking weary and defeated, he glanced up at Virgil's arrival.

“I just don't understand, if they don't know what it is, and we haven't noticed its absence for this long, then why do we need to keep it? And if there ever was a use for it in the future, would they even be able to find it again?” Scott was a fully paid up member of the - have a use or get out, school of clutter management.

“Everything has a use S-scott” interjected Brains, in a tone that made it clear that this was just a rerun of their previous conversation. It amused Virgil how much the in depth identification process was annoying Scott, it jarred the gearbox of his brain. 

“Sorry, I didn't think it would set them off, but as long as it's not all rattling around my ‘bird everytime time I have to turn tightly, then really, I don't care. Think of it this way, if this keeps them occupied for a few hours, Christmas is going to be a sinch, half a pack of Meccano and the insides of an old Hi-fi should keep them guessing until New Year.”

Scott scrubbed a hand over his face in tired resignation, and let out a huff that would have been described as sulky if it had come from Alan.

“Ah, but I did find something of yours in there” continued Virgil, diving into the box and giving it an experimental shuffle. “ Ah ha!” with a theatrical flick he waved the item under Scotts nose. 

It was a small bottle of talcum powder. Scott snatched it out of Virgil's hands and added a stroppy scowl to his impersonation of a grumpy teenager. “It's a slim fit flight suit - alright!” and off he stomped.

Virgil stifled a laugh as he watched him storm off, everyone always thought Gordon was the mischief maker, but you didn't have to be brash to get under the commanders skin, and Virgil could utilise his years of practice. Maybe that might teach him to stop littering Thunderbird 2.


End file.
